Chapter 4
Over the course of his friendship with the world's only consulting detective, John had come to learn that it was incredibly rare for Sherlock Holmes to be surprised- or, rather, it was incredibly rare for Sherlock to show that he was surprised.
This knowledge made it even more entertaining to see the shocked expression on Sherlock's face when Sall Donovan literally threw her arms around hi the minute he slipped under the police tape.
"Thank God," she groaned. "Someone who's not a complete idiot."
Sherlock stiffened and shot John a panicked glance over the woman's shoulder, his pale blue eyes silently pleading with the doctor to save him. John smirked and shrugged, his smile widening when the panicked look morphed into a glare.
"Er… Donovan," Sherlock muttered. "…Please get off."
Donovan hastily released the consulting detective, her lips curling into an automatic sneer.
"Sorry… Don't get used to it, freak," she snapped.
"That will never happen, I assure you," he murmured under his breath. He cleared his throat and deftly brushed a few imaginary flecks of dirt off of his coat, his gaze travelling over Donovan to take in the frazzled police clustered together behind her. "What's happening here?"
Donovan grimaced and glanced over her shoulder as well, her jaw clenched. "Bomb threat. Field, one of the men who were interrogating that Sheppard fellow before he escaped, snapped and holed himself up this old factory. He claims he has enough bombs to level the damn thing. Wild-" The Sergeant's sneer became more pronounced as she spoke the other man's name. "Wild has ordered an evacuation of the area while he tries to negotiate with Field. He won't let anyone else into the building except for Hitchen."
"Hitchen?" John prompted.
Donovan shrugged. "He works with Wild. Apparently they're both trying to get a promotion in May, but based on what happened earlier…" She grimaced again and shrugged.
Sherlock frowned and looked over the crowd of policemen again, his eyes zeroing in on a dark-haired man that was currently shouting orders to a group of trembling underlings.
"Right," he muttered. "Donovan, do you think that you could get us into the building?"
Sally stared at him in shock then shook her head, her expression doubtful. "They've got it roped off, and I don't have the authority. You'd need to run it past Wild."
Sherlock frowned and nodded reluctantly, his long legs already propelling him towards the middle of the huddled mass of policemen. John hesitated for a moment, his green eyes flickering towards the alley that divided the doomed building from its neighbors. He glanced back at the consulting detective, his eyes widening when the cellphone in his pocket vibrated.
'There's a side door in the alley. It won't be guarded. –MH'
John sighed and typed a quick reply before pocketing the device and heading towards the door.
'Thanks for asking. Tell Sherlock.'
*Johnlock*Johnlock*Johnlock*
D.I. Wild looked up as Sherlock approached, his thick brow furrowing in exasperated confusion when he noticed Donovan shifting nervously by his side.
"Who's this?" he asked wearily. "I told them that I didn't need any more men on this case."
"I don't work for the Yard," Sherlock interrupted serenely. "And you do need me. My name is Sherlock Holmes."
Wild chuckled wryly and held out his hand, his smile widening slightly when the taller man didn't take it. "Ah, yes. I suppose I should have expected you, Mr. Holmes. Although perhaps you would like to have this conversation about your lover at another-"
"I'm the other Holmes," Sherlock snapped irritably. "My brother's relationship is none of my concern. I'm only here to see what idiotic mistakes you have made so far in your investigation."
Wild frowned and cocked his head to the side, his expression confused. "I'm… sorry?"
"Oh no, don't apologize," Sherlock replied easily. "Everyone else is an idiot, so I suppose you can't help being one as well. Now, about the investigation: I shall need your permission to go and speak with Mr. Field and Mr. Hitchen."
"That's impossible," Wild interrupted. "We can't risk anyone interrupting Hitchen's negotiations with Field. I don't care what kind of authority you or your brother have, no one else is going into that building unless Hitchen states that he needs assistance."
"Why is Hitchen the only one who can negotiate with Field?" Sherlock pressed. "Is that even his division?"
"I- no, but-"
"Who gave him the jurisdiction to negotiate with Field face-to-face?" Sherlock tried again. "Didn't anyone try communicating with him over the phone?"
"We tried that and he refused," Wild snapped. "Field threatened to blow the place up immediately unless we sent Hitchen in to negotiate."
"Why?"
"The hell if I know!" Wild snarled, his brown eyes flashing angrily. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and took a half-step back when he noticed the other man's hands curl into tight fists at his sides. "Apparently Hitchen and Field have some history together or something- I'm not a walking fucking dictionary for Met gossip."
"Really?" Sherlock spat, his careful façade breaking for a brief moment as he flashed the shorter man an icy sneer. "You could have fooled me."
Wild stared at the consulting detective, his broad shoulders heaving with deep, frantic breaths as he tried to regain control of his emotions. After a moment, he turned away, his hand raised in an unmistakable gesture of dismissal.
"Sergeant Donovan," he growled. "Please escort Mr. Holmes off of the premises. We will talk later about your authority to let amateurs in on police investigations."
Sherlock stiffened and moved to object, only to freeze when the phone in Wild's pocket let loose a high-pitched 'ping', his eyes narrowing as the DI removed the device from his pocket and deftly switched the device onto speaker. Wild gestured for a nearby attendant to start taking notes, his eyes still locked on the screen of the sleek black iPhone.
"Hitchen," he began, only to be cut off by a man's panicked voice.
"Get out of there," the man wheezed. "Get the hell out of there. Field isn't controlling the explosives. Wild-"
Bright, searing light erupted in front of them and sent Sherlock flying backwards, his hands flying out automatically in a futile effort to break his fall. Sharp pain seared through his shoulder as it slammed into the cracked concrete, a low groan breaking through his lips in response. A dull, burning sensation spread across the skin of his face and he instinctively turned away from the light that was still onto the insides of his eyelids, another moan breaking through his lips when he found that he was unable to escape its light.
"S-Sherlock?" Donovan's voice slammed into his ringing eardrums, sending jolts of surprise and pain through the injured detective. "H-Hey, freak, are you alright?"
Sherlock grimaced and forced his eyes to open, his teeth clenching as another moan fought to break through his lips. The detective slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, quietly checking to make sure that his limbs were still attached to his body. He glanced around him slowly, his gaze focusing for a brief moment on Wild as the DI was helped to his feet by a bleeding aide covered in grey dust.
"Is anyone dead?" Wild croaked, his voice somehow carrying easily over the rising chaos. "Someone call for an ambulance. I want anybody still able to walk to look for survivors, understood?"
A muted chorus of agreements and groans met Wild's announcement. Sherlock frowned and struggled to stand, his lips twisting into a grimace when Donovan's hand fastened around his shaking arm in an effort to lend support. Donovan glared at him, her lips curled in a similar expression of disgust.
"I'm just being nice, freak," she snapped. "Don't think I'm enjoying this."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and straightened, his breath catching in his throat when the movement sent another flash of pain through his shoulder.
I'll have John check it out later, he thought.
John.
"Where's John?" he demanded suddenly, causing Donovan to jump.
The police sergeant shot Sherlock a sideways glance, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What?" she asked.
"John," Sherlock growled. "Where's John?"
Donovan frowned and glanced back to where she had last seen the doctor, her dark eyes roving carefully over the tangled mass of newly-arrived medics and injured police officers.
"He's probably helping with the injured," she mused hesitantly. "Do you want me to go and-?"
"Find him," Sherlock snapped.
Donovan sighed and slowly released the injured detective, her eyes narrowing for a moment as she checked to make sure that he wasn't going to fall over. After a moment, the sergeant turned and hurried towards the knot of medical personnel. Sherlock watched her go, unable to ignore the icy fear that was beginning to coil in the pit of his stomach. He jumped suddenly when he felt his cellphone vibrate, his slender fingers immediately plucking the device from his pocket.
'I'm sorry, Sherlock. –MH'
"For what?" the younger Holmes growled. He frowned when he saw that there was another unread message and hastily flipped back to the previous text. He froze, his eyes locked on the words that had turned him to ice and trapped the breath in his lungs.
Nononononono…. Not John… Not John, not him… Please…
'John has gone into the building. Try and catch up to him as soon as you can. –MH'
No… John.
Hey guys! I finally got an update up, thank goodness, lol. Er… I suppose I should say sorry for the cliffhanger but I'm actually not, so~
Please review and let me know what you think, okay? I swear I'll have an update as soon as possible!
